


Please, Don’t Drink Tonight

by stateofdeficit



Category: Florence + the Machine
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Addiction, Eventual Smut, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-04-24 00:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofdeficit/pseuds/stateofdeficit
Summary: Isa wants to get sober, and she also wants Florence to get sober.And she also wants Florence.Set towards the end of the Ceremonials era.





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> Real people, fake story.
> 
> Inspired by Florence's British Vogue essay.

“Flo, I was thinking maybe tonight we could just stay in”, I nervously suggested.

“What? Getting drunk in hotel rooms is so depressing, I don’t want to do that”, she dismissed.

“Maybe we could stay in without getting boozed?” I knew this was a non-starter tonight, but I had to start somewhere. The truth is, I drink just as much as Flo, take just as much as Flo. But it’s not fun anymore. And it’s taken a huge toll on us both. This shit owns us. We pretend like we’re these two wild fun free spirits when in actual fact we both limp around like amputees licking our wounds before we head back for more fresh ones, and I am defeated. But I don’t know if I can stop if she doesn’t stop. And I know if she doesn’t stop, she’ll die. The other night, I had to stick my fingers down her throat. It wasn’t the first time. But it feels different now. We used to laugh about that stuff, now we just quietly, shamefully thank each other for not leaving the other to die. We don’t say the last bit. I was clearing my phone photos out on the tour bus the other day and I found a photo I screenshotted that once made me laugh so incredibly hard. It was a meme of _drunk people taking care of drunker people_. I cried. I actually sobbed sitting there at the tour bus table. We’re sobbing all the time. So no one even asks. All our heads hurt. Hearts hurt.

It doesn’t even fully stop when I’m ‘up’ anymore like it used to. We’re not having fun anymore.

“Iz, I’m so done with touring, it will take me at least 10 shots or a quality trip to forget what city I am in. Another 10 to forget we’re on tour at all. We need to get moving.” Flo took a sip of her glass of water as she responded, inspecting herself in the mirror, feeling her individual ribs. I suspected it was not straight water. She always drank from her water bottle when she was actually just drinking water, and the hotel room glass when she’d added a shot from her stash of mini vodka bottles she didn’t know I knew she kept in all her bags. She shared almost everything with me, but not those. The first time I saw them was when she took one from her jacket pocket at a hotel breakfast when she thought no one was looking, topping up her black coffee. A vodka coffee and half a small bowl of plain fruit salad. Unfinished. The breakfast of champions.

I can’t stop myself. Looking at her, and knowing she’s a reflection of me too, I feel so much pain. We are both in so much fucking pain. The difference is that I think I really can stop. I’m there. It’s time.

“Flo, look at me”, my voice is serious and she’s taken aback. She turns and looks at me, and I get up off the bed and walk to her. My face hides nothing. I know she can see I’m sad. I get to her, and I pick up her glass. She flinches slightly, barely noticeable. I take a sip. Vodka. I look into her eyes. She glances sideways.

“What? I’m pre-gaming, like a normal person.” She believes her own lies so often.

“Please, don’t drink tonight. Stay here with me. Stay here, we can order room service, and go to sleep early. We can binge watch anything you want. I’ll do your nails.” I am pleading. I am trying to be casual, but I am pleading.

“I want to go out Iz. I’m not 50. We can’t just stay in on a Saturday night.”

“It’s Tuesday, Flo.” My voice was sad. Her face was sad.

“Iz I’d love for you to come out it won’t be as fun without you. But if you want to stay in, you stay in. Maybe you’ve just got a particularly bad hangover”, she wasn’t being confrontational. She was speaking softly, sweetly, in the way she does when she’s sober. Or as sober as she gets.

“I have a hangover every single day Flo. I didn’t even know that until I stopped drinking for four days when I was taking those antibiotics and then I realised that it isn’t what you actually fucking naturally feel everyday.” I paused and brushed her cheek. “Please don’t drink tonight. I don’t want to drink tonight.” She looked down now, my hand falling. She knew what I was getting at. My voice became very soft…”I’m beginning to become scared. For us both. We have to stop.”

She was silent. I took her hand in mine. We didn’t look at each other. For a few moments there was just stillness.

“I’m gonna get ready. I’ll text you updates where we are in case you change your mind.” In one swoop she dropped my hand and replaced where it sat with her glass, walked into the bathroom with a dress and closed the door. I sank down against the wall and cried. I got up and walked over to her clutch she’d put everything in ready earlier and opened it up. Three mini vodka bottles. I took them out, put them in the bin, and sat back on the bed. I took off my clothes and underwear and sat with just the sheet over me. When she came out, dressed, her red lipstick, she almost looked human. She is so beautiful, sometimes it makes me forget for just a second that she’s broken. I know I have been her enabler. Because of how much I just want to say yes to anything she suggests.

She looked at me for a second and then walked over to grab her clutch. “I’ll see you later. Don’t watch any Jessica Jones without me. I’ll go to the my room so I don’t wake you.” She weakly smiled. And then she was gone.

As soon as she closed the door, I lay back and cried. This is not a way to live this life. This is a way to die. I don’t want her to die.

**

I used to convince myself what I felt for her was the love you can feel for a friend. I just wanted to be near her all the time. I liked how she made me feel, who I was with her. Everything.

But I could feel myself trying to claw back my infatuation with her. I would smell her perfume sprayed clothes when she wasn’t around and instantly feel shame. When I would touch myself, no matter how hard I tried, she always crept into my mind. I felt so ashamed. I haven’t had sex, haven’t masturbated in months. In a particularly low moment last week, I was in the bathroom about to shower, and she was passed out on my bed. She never could stand going to her own hotel room alone she always came to mine and used it as her own. Except when she found _company_. She had discarded her clothes and underwear and left them in a pile on the bathroom floor. I was drunk. I still tried to stop myself but I couldn’t. I picked up her pants. Even as so much of me was in pure ecstasy smelling them, I felt disgusting. I felt like a sex offender. Like I should be imprisoned. How could she ever feel anything for me? She could never.

I have always dated men. Never really felt anything for a girl. I guess that’s why Flo has caught me so off guard. And for so long I just didn’t understand it. Now I know that I’m in love with her.

I have to stop this. I have never felt this low. I have to get out of this. I have to stop the drink. The drugs. And I have to take Flo with me.

I stay up and cry for everything we’ve become. I stay up and wonder if she’ll keep good on her word to go to her own room. She probably won’t even turn in until hours after sunlight, anyway. I pull on some pyjamas and will myself to sleep.

**

I wake to the feeling of a body pressing against mine and dampness. Cold dampness. It’s hard to tell if I’m dreaming. I hear sobs, and I know that I’m not. I turn around, and there she is. Seemingly soaked head to toe, fully clothed, under the blankets. I don’t turn on the light. I don’t know what time it is, but it’s still dark.

“Hi”, is all I can say.

She is sniffs. Then, she speaks. “You took my vodka”, she says.

“Yes”, is all I can say. I take her hand, again. And we’re still. I can see her shaking, freezing, but I don’t want to push.

A few minutes pass, and I delicately suggest we get her into the shower to warm up. I get up first and gently pull her up, and walk her to the bathroom and turn on the low light. She walks straight to the shower and steps in, fully clothed, and turns on the faucet. She looks like she might just slip down the drain.

“Will you come in with me, Isa?” Her voice is so soft I can barely hear.

I step in, still in my pyjamas. Her hands cup the water as it sprays down. Then she moves under the jet, water falling on her head with her eyes closed. She reaches for me and I put my arms around her.

“We have stop.” She was acknowledging our earlier conversation.

We stood there for a while, holding each other.

“Iz?”

“Hmm?”

“I wet the bed.” She whispered.

We both started to giggle.

“Yes, you did. Your room?” I asked.

“Yeah, let’s go.” She whispered. We got out of the shower and she stripped off. Always doing things in the wrong order. I looked away. My breath was stuck somewhere. I turned around and took off my soaked pyjamas and put a towel on, went out into the room and threw some pyjamas back to her in the bathroom and put on a fresh set myself . We walked down the hall and got into her bed wordlessly.

Maybe it will stick. Maybe she won’t remember. Maybe she’ll pretend not to remember. Everything hurts.

**

I woke up the next morning and she was still asleep. 9 a.m. She was curled on her side facing away from me. Out of habit, I reached to put my hand on her back to feel for signs of breathing. I felt it. Relief. She was so skinny I swear sometimes I could feel her heart beat from her back. I wondered sometimes if she also checked for signs of life from me when I was passed out. I think she would. I hope she would.

She stirred and rolled onto her back, eyes opening. “Hmmmm” she hummed, acknowledging her wakefulness. I replied by echoing her hum.

“I wet the bed, didn’t I?” She said again. We giggled again.

“You did.” I said, but I didn’t want to leave this, she was clutching at a joke run dry to dodge what needed to be said. I wanted to gain momentum, I didn’t want to wait till the moment it would be time to pick up another drink. “Flo, do you remember what we talked about last night?”

She was silent of a few seconds. “Yeah, Isa, I do.” She signed heavily and covered her face with her hands.

“Please do this with me, Flo.” There was desperation in my voice.

“I want to Iz I know we have to stop. I know. And I’m scared. Let’s stop. But can we please have one last big night? I want to go out with a bang. One last night of fun. And then a break.” Her tone reflected her position of compromise. Serious and hopeful. Maybe even determined. I guess it was reasonable.

“Okay. One more night.”

 

 


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flo and Isa go out for one last big night.

“Can you do my eyes? Just something light.” Flo asks, bringing me back to the present as I’m staring out the hotel window while she’s doing her makeup.

“Yep, come here.” She crawls onto the bed with her makeup bag and sits in front of me cross-legged. She hands me the bag and expectantly closes her eyes, presenting herself to me. I open the bag and retrieve a natural palette and brush, and begin to apply a light brown hue to her left eye.

“I’m nervous about tonight”, I confess.

“What do you mean, nervous?” She asks, genuinely.

“I don’t know, a _last night_ feels like a lot of pressure to have fun – big fun. I’m scared maybe I’ll take it too far I guess? We have to be at the airport by 11 a.m.”, I’m not being entirely truthful when I say this, because I’m not nervous I will take it too far. I’m nervous she will take it too far.

“I know what you mean, but don’t worry it will be a good night. The boys are coming and we’ll just go to a few clubs and see where the night takes us.”

“Maybe we should go for a bite first?” I ask this hoping we can at least start right.

“I’m not hungry, but if you want to grab food I’ll get a drink”, this might be the least surprisingly statement to ever slip from her lips.

“Don’t you think maybe you should have something to eat?” I try to say this casually, which is near impossible.

“Come on, Isa. Don’t get on my back about this right now I eat all the time I’m not having this conversation with you again”, she opens her eyes while I’m still doing her make up and snaps her head away from me. I can’t help but sigh, to which she responds by grabbing her makeup bag and beginning to make a move off the bed. I grab her arm to stop her.

“Hey – don’t do that. Please. I’m not going to make you eat with me, but I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know that’s a problem for you after all the time we’ve spent together. I’m sorry I said anything okay. All I would say is your reaction to me suggesting you get something to eat is maybe something to think about. I won’t say another word on it.” I know I am a coward, but I just don’t want her to leave right now. At least if I can keep her where I can see her rather than running off I know she’ll be somewhat okay. I can see the tears welling in her eyes as she’s looking down, not wanting to make eye contact with me.

She doesn’t speak, she just stays frozen.

“Let me finish your eyes come here”.

I finish her make up in silence and I look into her eyes to make sure they’re even, and she stares back into mine with so much emotion and I just want to take her away from all of this.

God I am in such big fucking trouble.

*

We were dancing and holding hands and spinning. And we _really_ were having fun. She spun me out and spun back into her. And when I reached her I turn to face her. And she kissed me. Like she read my mind. Like she has 1000 times before.

_In and out. In and out. I’m just a wave, I’m not her water_.

We’d done a couple of lines at the start of the night and everyone was in good spirits, though Flo was predictably putting the pressure on to make tonight one for the ages.

We just arrived at a new club she insisted upon, and she darted off somewhere as soon as we got there, while the boys and I went to dance. A few minutes later, I see her come towards us on the dance floor, on another level entirely. She comes and wraps her arms around me, eyes closed. She’s vibrating with the music.

“Well that was a sly hook up”, I yell over the music.

“I didn’t think you’d want another hit, what with you abandoning me for sobriety and all”, there’s an edge to her voice and it doesn’t feel like she’s joking.

“Flo…”, I start.

“We can’t give up these night Isa, come on it’s the only time we’re really free. When we can just be us.”

“And we do too much stupid shit, and spiral into a pit of depression the next day we have to drink ourselves out of and on and on it goes. I thought you were with me on this.”

“You could be with me on this,” she says with a smirk, pulling a baggie with two pills from her bra.

“I’m good, and I think you are too.”

“Suit yourself”, and with that she tosses back both pills.

“Flo what the fuck are you doing, you’re going way too fast and I know you just took something else wherever you went can you fucking cool it. I haven’t even seen you drink a fucking drop of water this whole day”, I’m pissed off now, because this is exactly what I was worried about.

“Just dance with me”. She flips around and grinds her back against me and I try so hard to just let go and enjoy this. I want to tell her everything, but not like this. She’s so far gone it would just be pointless. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea.

I give into the music and the feeling of Flo pressed against me, and decide to just enjoy the night for what it is. A farewell. Maybe it’s a farewell to Flo as well, the tour is almost over after all and I don’t have another in me, maybe this is the natural end for me. For us.

I’m lost in the beat and the thoughts crossing my mind when Florence turns to me and abruptly takes my hand, and my heart starts beating before I’ve looked at her face. I look up at her and she’s covered in sweat, a look of anxiety across her face. She brings my hand to her heart and it feels like it’s beating out her chest. It feels like she’s 1000 degrees.

Oh fuck.

I lean over to her ear and yell, “Let’s get you some water and air”. She nods, looking entirely fucked up, and I start pulling her through the crowd. We’re almost at the bar when I feel her hand drop from mine. I whip around and there she is on the ground, seizing.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

People part around us and I yell for someone to call an ambulance, as I drop to the floor to get her on her side and put my jacket under her head. Someone from security appears saying an ambulance is coming and he clears people out of the way. I can feel the tears falling down my face and I see the boys now by her side as she continues to convulse.

This is all my fucking fault.

Mercifully, she stops. And I feel a brief moment of respite from the horror, until the image of her unconscious on the floor hits. I start shaking her to wake up and someone pulls me off her as the paramedics arrive.

One last fucking night.

*

They let me in to see her in intensive care after convincing them I am her sister, which I am clearly not. I think I just had that air of ‘I’m not going away’. 

I sit next on the chair next to her and I just cry. And frankly it surprises me I have any tears left for this girl. Maybe I’m crying for myself just as much as her.  
I like just watching the monitor and seeing her heartbeat, it’s the most strangely comforting thing. The assurance she’s still here. I put my hand on her chest to feel it for myself, but I can’t feel anything. It strikes me as a relief given the intensity at which I felt her heart a few hours ago. She stirs slightly as I move my hand away and another wave of relief washes over me. This can’t be the end, it won’t be. I take her right hand between mine and hold it against my forehead. 

“When you wake up, this is it. You’re gonna have to choose. Pills or Isa. Because I can’t see you here again. I love you too much to watch you self destruct, I wouldn’t survive it. If you die tonight, I will never forgive myself for agreeing to one last night. The reason I agreed, in reality, was that if we had one last night, and I knew it was the last one - the last night we would be able to completely release our inhibitions and do those things we’d never otherwise do - I knew I could do it. Even if I didn’t tell you the extent of what I feel for you, I could still kiss you. I mean really kiss you, not the way we do on stage or for pictures. Kiss you like an apocalyptic event was at our doorstep. 

And you would kiss me back, because that’s the kind of friend that you are - obliging. And you’d interpret my intensity as mourning and a farewell to finality of the night. Or, you would see through that, and maybe want more as a fitting symbol to farewell our wild years. You’d put your hands on me, and I’d touch you so gently, knowing that you’re bruised. You’d pull away momentarily, and look me in the eyes before you hovered your hand over the button of my shorts, looking for a sign – and I’d give it to you, trying not to look so eager. You would be timid at first until you felt how wet I was I was for you, and then you’d lose yourself in the moment. And the feeling of your fingers touching me where I have always tried not to dream would release something so much more than an orgasm. I’d keep my eyes open as much as I could and cling to you. I’d hide the sadness in my eyes as I came down, trying to savour you, memorise the feeling of your fingers, your breath, knowing it would never happen again. And I would touch you and kiss you on every piece of flesh for as long as you would let me. And I’d be devastated if I couldn’t make you come, and transfixed by your face if you did. And I’d hold you for a small eternity until you gently shrugged me away to roll over. And then I’d go to the bathroom and cry, inconsolable that it will be the one and only time I will make love to the love of my life. Mourning a loss I never really had in the first place. I would stand in the shower working so hard to commit every moment we just shared to memory, praying from that day that I could release snapshots slowly over the years so I don’t use it all up, but I know I won’t be able to stop myself.

If I agreed to tonight, knowing we would take it too far, just for the remote chance I could have this moment and build this memory for my selfish consumption, and you die for the very reason I’d anticipated, I won’t forgive myself. Wake up, Florence. Please.” I am sobbing now and I can't get control.

“I am awake, Isa”.


End file.
